Author's Note
My name is Fireflower and this is my sixteenth My Little Pony Fanfic, using normal canon characters that is rated T for Teen; therefore, it is no clopfic whatsoever but it is my fifteenth flashfic on this website: matter of fact, it took me about less than a day total to make this because it was for a contest y'all know of so to speak.
Anyways, I just want to state for the record My Little Pony, or rather Friendship Is Magic along with its setting and characters belong to Lauren Faust and Hasbro: of course, you'd already know about it since you'd been reading my stories for a long time so to speak of; speaking of which, this story is influenced by some brainrot parody so I'd like to apologize.
Enjoy it while you can 'cause I had to tone it down for the sake of the word count: seeing that it's there now, it was inevitable to come up with something to fill up a void in my mind all the same; in addition, the name of this chapter is so self–explanatory, it barely needs an explanation whatsoever, except 'twas inspired by that accursed game, Metal Gear Survive.
The Deadmen's Septette
The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel and what better way to so it than the driving snowstorm; of course, the world was no blank canvas, at least as far as its observers were concerned, not that color itself was an issue currently: splattered across the ice and flakes were bodies, part and parcel, as they’d littered the landscape all around themselves.
Quick were the heavy footfalls crumpling up the snow as they’d belonged to a sextet of individuals running out of breath; even with the cold choking them all out, they’d still struggled to stay alert and upright, especially considering their cache of weapons: from handguns to launchers, they’d were in no position to either give up or in to adversity or terror no matter what.
Of them, a bright skinned man armed with a sword was cutting into the flesh of an equine, the latter without a face but a glowing reddish horn in its place; the former wasted no time in making a defense against the latter’s attack, if at all, something in which many the remaining compeers could see plain as day, despite the inclement weather and timing nonetheless.
“Hey, Storm Shadow… how much further until we make it to the cabin…?!” cried a low and husky voice escaping into the eponymous listener’s ears, coming from none other than a machinegun toting viewer all dressed in green as shots were fired out away from themselves no less.
After wiping the blood clean off of the blade, the swordsman hissed amicably, “just two minutes on foot, as long as we don’t get ambushed by more zombie unicorns, we’ll be all fine and dandy, Shipwreck…!”
“Easier said than done: I used to miss the old days when it was just us Joes versus Cobra; now it’s the night of the living dead…!” the titular trooper had talked as he was currently surveilling the area of influence around himself and his colleagues so to speak of, “come to think of it, that horsey seems to remind me of something I’d seen a few decades ago, all by myself…”
“You can talk all about when we get to the cabin shortly; I heard they’d found a portal that can take us to a remote island so we wouldn’t have to worry about these ghouls left and right: at least, we’ll be all safe and sound…!” a bombastic baritone bellowed as a big boom was launched away from themselves at long last.
More cadavers were left in their way, each of them more similar than the last and they were just equines themselves already alone: there were bipeds, much like that of Storm Shadow and Shipwreck in various states of disrepair as far as they all could see clearly; the crimson staining their clothes was more than enough to unnerve them as they all ran as fast as they could no less. Of course, there were more creatures of either standing coming in their direction, even with ice impeding their eyesight altogether; the fact they were all decaying out amongst the frost was bad enough for the human condition but there was something else too: no matter how much wear and tear was inflicted, they still couldn’t be beaten down by the wind and the snow, at least to them. Even worse, more were coming their way, irregardless of how many bullets to be dispensed or hot the flames were presently: the men were determined to avoid them at any cost, not only because of their persistence but also their condition in any case as is; even the lone swordsman had kept it in mind, blended well in the weather but not the enemy storm in question they’re in.
At long last, a wooden cottage had entered their line of vision, surrounded by barbed wire and metal gear surviving therein out: it’d seemed that salvation was around the corner, despite the linear pathway the whole sextet were currently on so to speak of; of course, it was no time for any of them to slack off and start taking any more time that’s being wasted within themselves.
Storm Shadow shouted as he’d slashed through two more of the corpses, much like the unicorn from not too long ago, “Shipwreck, we’re almost there, we can just feel it within our reach; we just need to keep on going, just for them…!”
“I hope so because when we get through this, I don’t know if I want to keep sober or grab another bottle when it’s over…!” the aforementioned man shouted back as he’d fired upon the encroaching masses all the same, his lungs becoming heavier as is, “come on, boss, please be safe; the fate of the world rest upon you, sir…!”
After they’d all made it past the steel barrier, another voice, shrill yet frantic, cried out with determination, “light it up…!”
The gate behind them buzzed about after they’d closed the door abaft them, the energy within its surface area suddenly increasing in heat and light as the lifeless horde went up against it and started to cook without a hitch, their ghastly screaming causing one of the sextet to let loose a full canvas of wastes upon the ice and snow adjacent to them all the same.
Even the cold air became warm with misery and anguish as the soldiers sped towards the cabin without so much as a care in the world, especially with what had been happening much earlier all the while.
Of them, Shipwreck looked on with pity as he’d noticed the flesh and fabric catching ablaze before them, a painful reminder of what they once were and the mystery behind their current state of affairs, all that were at risk of deletion as far as he and his peers were concerned in the meantime, especially due to what had happened.
Nevertheless, the blizzard was raging on like they were nothing to it at all whatsoever creating whiteout.
